


Tied-up Punishments. DRAFT

by SlySama



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU Sixth Year, I suppose., M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Spanking, Teacher/Student, draft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 19:28:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13531029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlySama/pseuds/SlySama
Summary: Well, I've got something on my works page about this. Let's see what you make of this?I'm not really sure what to make of it myself.Like it's mentioned twice already, it's simply a draft of sorts. I'd like your opinions on if it's good, if it's okay, if I should definitely do something more because it feels unfinished. I'm a bit stuck for writing it. OPINIONS are most welcome!!





	Tied-up Punishments. DRAFT

 

 

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. That privilege belongs to J.K Rowling and all her affiliated partners in bringing such a gloriously magnificent world to ours. I simply play with them to bring some small bit of that wonderful world into other's leisure time--Bringing some beautiful characters together that normally wouldn't be but we love reading about.

Harry was down near the dungeons when he should have been up in his warm covers in the Gryffindor Boy’s Dormitory, but he wasn’t. He couldn’t sleep, not with all the recent attacks. So, here he was, out after curfew when he knew he wasn’t allowed and he found himself surprised when a velvety voice dripping with annoyance broke into his solemn silence; His hand was on the door handle of an unused classroom at that moment, though he had no idea why he’d been about to enter it.

He jumped and spun, his hands coming behind him as he was pushed up against it—though not physically. Snape’s stare could do that to a person, he reflected with a scowl covering his features going unchecked; his solitude and brief rebellious act of wandering the castle late at night had been foiled, again.

Snape was glaring, his wand held aloft and brightening as he grew closer and hissed. ‘What on Merlin’s green earth are you doing down here, Potter? You are not to wander the castle at night, you know this.’ He ground, almost brandishing the wand tip.

Harry said nothing, just clenched his teeth—there wasn’t really anything he could say that wouldn’t get him in further trouble and deeper in debt with the House Rubies. ‘Well?’ The man hissed further—clearly angry.

Harry, of course didn’t really blame the Professor, not when Harry was constantly rebelling for his night-time walks; it was really the only time that Harry got to himself these days. The dormitory was always alive with chatter until they went to bed, his friends were all over him to keep him safe and Dumbledore was constantly asking him to his office for “Tea”—he was sure that was sparking rumours he wasn’t keen to listen to and old Professor McGonagall was stopping him after every second class just to ask him if he’d been having any nightmares; of course, he was! He had a fucking scar on his forehead that connected him to Voldemort’s little “Happy Play Times.”

Harry sighed—not on purpose but he couldn’t help the leakage frustration or that the doorknob was starting to dig into his spine; Snape kept getting closer, his obsidian eyes pools of deep dark abyss—they promised punishment; always did.

His tone was dark as he spoke again, his eyes narrowing as he finally halted, the light at the end of his ebony wand burning into Harry’s light sensitive eyes—his own wand had barely been sparked because of the Portraits’ complaints. Harry angled his head away from it and the hiss into his face. ‘Very well, you leave me with no alternatives anymore. You have been purposefully disobedient one to many times. I am at my last nerve with you Potter, seeing you gallivanting around like you haven’t a care in the world when your very life is at stake; there are Junior Death Eater’s in these walls.’ He smacked the wall with a hand and Harry tried not to jerk. ‘I know this, you know this, everyone in the Order knows this it is why we set rules Potter and you are purposefully ignoring them. You. Are. At. Risk.’ He ground out, stabbing the air with his wand and making Harry turn his head a little further to the right.

‘Your housemates will now find themselves 100 points less when they wake, IF you don’t find it in yourself to be further disobedient and give me attitude. Move, march, that way.’ His long fingers came through the brightness and enclosed around Harry’s collared shirt—he hadn’t bothered to change out of his school shirt, so still wore it—and tossed him down through the darkness that was the corridor they’d just come.

 [ ]

 

Harry couldn’t help but look behind him once or twice, staring at the man’s illuminated stark features; they were of course, set into a scowl. He turned back and stopped when Snape’s larger hand suddenly found itself in the middle of his back but stumbled forwards as it propelled him onwards at the man’s set pace. Harry swallowed to think what the man had in mind…

It was too late for a detention and, as Snape steered them as they neared the Grand Staircase to Harry’s horror, downwards, he wasn’t being taken back to Gryffindor Tower.

It was dark, dank and there was a chill settling into Harry’s bones as they went deeper than the normal first staircase into the Potions Corridor. He swallowed again and rubbed at his arms through his thin uniform shirt, and without realising where they’d ended up, or frankly actually knowing it, Harry jerked when the door slammed behind him, just missing taking his ass in the frame.

He rubbed at it self-consciously and let out a shocked gasp as he was almost instantly slammed up against that rough wood door and its metal panelling—his body went rigid and he made a noise in his throat as his wrists were grabbed from his sides and hauled up above his head, kept there, by strong unyielding fingers. It was just one hand, the other was beside Harry’s head, bringing the older man close to Harry’s body and the strip of skin revealed by his shirt riding up, after pocketing the teens wand.

Unable to curb his body’s unconscious reaction to the emanating heat—he was a teenager—and finding himself suddenly being dominated against dungeon door by his Professor—whom let it not be said aloud, he had sort of developed a teensy bit of an unhealthy completely fucked up crush on somewhere down the line of insults and mockery, Harry bucked his hips then almost immediately stilled when he realised HIS reaction would probably cause one in Snape…That he wasn’t sure about—since he’d notice, right?

It put the man closer, and Harry wasn’t sure if he wanted that…

Despite the aforementioned “crush”—which was decidedly messed up, he knew this.

Snape was already a bit too close for comfort before. The man’s knee was now wedged between Harry’s thighs, right up against his crotch so how wouldn’t he notice? His jet-black fringe covering his eyes—he was in need of a bit of a haircut—his eyelashes flickered as he looked between the strands and into the dark black eyes above him.

An eyebrow was risen with a slight tilt of the man’s head showing a quirk of a thin lip.

Um, where was the punishment in this exactly?

Professor’s don’t push you up against dungeons doors for punishment, usually.

Colour Harry temporarily confused by events…

And colour him further confused when the older man’s face got closer and the knee wedged up between his thighs pushed itself upwards and in, driving Harry’s ball sack upwards within his underwear and his shaft to harden, a noise to emit from his throat without conscious thought.

‘What do we have here, Mister Potter?’

Harry’s eyes wandered, and his body squirmed a bit.

The knee pushed and Harry almost keened—biting his lip to prevent it.

‘Perhaps you were out and about being reckless to rendezvous with someone?’

Harry slowly shook his head, evening knowing it was probably damning him.

‘No?’ The tone was disbelieving and intrigued.

Harry shook his head again, eyes closed, head angled away to the left. He could feel Snape’s breath on his cheek—it smelt like chocolate imbued with scotch or old Ogden’s, but the man didn’t smell drunk, so that was a bonus.

Why, Harry wasn’t sure.

‘You wouldn’t be lying to me now, would you Potter?’

Harry’s head moved again in the negative, not trusting his voice one bit.

‘I see…’ Snape shifted. The hand that was beside Harry’s head drew back and downwards, fingering the material of Harry’s pulled up shirt edge. Harry almost whimpered. There was a brief pause, ‘What is that?’ and the fingers grabbed the edge roughly and pulled from the tanned abdomen. Harry attempted to look down but since the man was so close he only ended up pressing his forehead to the Professor’s chest instead.

There was a steady thump, thump behind the material layers.

‘Sir?’ He questioned, finding his voice but hating the slight quaver it produced.

‘We are disobedient tonight and showing many sides of thyselves.’ The buttons started to pop on Harry’s shirt, untouched by fingers. He watched as one rolled away and disappeared beneath a cracked stone. ‘How, precisely, let alone when may I ask, Mister Potter, did you acquire this little accessory?’ A finger poked the spot.

Harry shivered.

Oh, that.

Well…

He supposed… To further that disobedience of rules he was doing, he’d snuck out to Hogsmeade under his invisibility cloak, after having ditched his friends—which had been no easy feat—and having noticed that a new shop had popped up at the end of the street, he’d taken a closer look and well, feeling he was more than old enough even though he was 16 and more than sick of everyone telling him what to do or not do as the case may be; he’d gotten it.

The treasure on his hip.

It’d hurt but it was beautiful.

‘You are not of age for this little treasure, Potter.’ Snape’s finger trailed the medium sized Phoenix that sat on Harry’s hip that fluttered with magic and to its own musical tempo as it clutched a golden snitch in a talon. ‘Let alone, are you allowed to be out of School grounds just as much as you are not allowed to be wandering the halls so late at night.’ He was hissing now but the tone had changed.

Harry’s head dropped back to the door.

‘A Phoenix, like Fawkes THAT much, do you?’ The lips were quirked as Harry peaked through his lashes.

‘He’s comforting.’ He mumbled.

‘Is he?’ There was a small quaver to the older man’s voice now.

Harry grumbled.

‘And, a Snitch…Hmm?’

Harry shrugged to this, then squeaked as a cold hand found its way up his abdomen slowly and spread across his thumping heart. He felt it was almost trying to leap out of his chest it sounded that loud to his own ears. He wondered if the Professor could hear it? He would certainly be able to feel it skipping. What was the man up too?

Was this a new form of punishment? Tormenting? Mocking? A new form that bordered on the improper for a teacher? Something that, somehow, might tame Harry into submitting to not walk the hallways or take risks before he was properly trained by the man in front of him ordered by Dumbledore?

Blinking with a gasp, he found himself with a hand around his throat and the one keeping his hands above his head now twisting him around and propelling him stumbling forwards a few paces to the desk pressed against the jiggered stone wall. His forehead hit the hard mahogany with a thunk and a groan from his throat as the hand pushed downwards on his back. There was no reaction from behind him and in fact, Snape was stepping back a few paces with Harry’s hands now invisibly bound in a cross against a suddenly chilled backbone; the man had magicked his student’s shirt gone.

Um…

‘I don’t believe you need these.’ Was the mutter before Harry found himself further unclothed and sagging into the front of the desk in his underwear. ‘Red, Mister Potter, really?’ Snape laughed then with a jerk from Harry’s body, the underwear was gone too.

Buck naked, Harry squirmed beneath the heated stare he could feel and the cold of the dungeons that assaulted him flush up and bound to a desk. He tried to speak, but nothing came out.

‘Ah, Harry you won’t be needing words.’ His tone was still laughing. ‘Just stay there obediently, not that you have much choice in the matter and it’ll be over before you know it.’ He shifted and Harry feeling the distinction shivered. Why not? What will? He questioned silently, squirming his body that seemed to be glued to the top of the desk.

Despite not getting any answers or finding he could ask them, he found he could scream. Harry found himself screaming as a hand, and then another, one after the other repeatedly rained down on his bare butt cheeks.

Seriously?! That’s what Snape was up too? He almost molests and then spanks Harry?! He whimpered, tears at the corners of his eyelashes as the smacks became harder. His cheek was pressed to the coolness of the wooden desk as his heating ass became extreme, his body jerking forwards with each swat into the table edge.

He could almost feel ashamed that his erection wasn’t going anywhere, and in fact, probably was as he scrubbed his cheek against the wooden surface as it grew harder, brushing against his stomach as it grew in length and angled upwards smearing pre-cum on the taught flesh.

He wasn’t sure what Snape was thinking behind him as the hands paused for a second at perhaps some minute change in Harry’s demeanour only to quickly resume with a mutter and press in closer to the pulsing of Harry’s pucker. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but perhaps he should have done something, when he thought about it, as he lay on his side up in the Gryffindor Boy’s Dormitory some time later, his lips bitten, his eyes red-rimmed, his shoulders sore, his cheeks pink, his ass cheeks stinging and his pucker still pulsing.

Snape, well, perhaps even not appearing drunk, the man had been? He had taken liberties a little after Harry’s throat released a whimpering mewl of pleasure and his ass bucked outwards for the hand that struck it.

A pause, a mere heart beat and pulse of a reddened aching entrance and the man had stripped himself down, or at the very least he’d done some shifting behind Harry and pulled his own aching shaft out in all it’s glory. There was only another beat before it was shoving into Harry’s tight heat with a grunting scream and clenching of bound fists.

Sure, Harry wasn’t a virgin but it wasn’t like he was usually bottoming, and he’d always, ever since acquiring that little crush of his, wandered what the man looked like underneath all those layers of his, whether he was…Big.

Perhaps that’s why he hadn’t done anything?

Perhaps that’s why he had simply limping, left the dungeon room afterwards, his body clothed and his ass cheeks stinging with his eyes, his throat and his insides.

He hadn’t seen it, granted, but he had felt it. He was.

The man was very well endowed.

Not that Harry was lacking in that department himself or anything… Harry whimpered as he pushed his face into the pillow, groaning into the material and biting down that it tore beneath his lips.

‘Fuck.’ He breathed.

 

 


End file.
